


(i) collided (into you)

by snowyseas



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a True Story, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Hook-Up, Hook-Up Culture, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, POV Third Person, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Porn With Plot, Romance, Sex, what else do i tag this as wtf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2018-12-01 18:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11492361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowyseas/pseuds/snowyseas
Summary: Yuuri promises himself that he would stop looking for people to love him, because they won't. Then, he meets Victor, someone he thought would never exist.





	1. Rei

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZhenLe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZhenLe/gifts).



> i posted a fic previously under this same title but i orphaned it because i realized it was really difficult to write so here is the rewrite! basically each chapter is based on true stories.

**:WINTER:**

 

From the train platform that overlooked the roads leading towards Shibuya, Yuuri’s eyes followed the few lone cars that drove along, making note of the fact that there was a lack of partygoers tonight. He rested his chin in his hand as he sat with his friends, waiting for the next train to take them to Roppongi. It was late, it was Christmas, and for the briefest moment, he cursed himself for thinking this year would be any different than the others had been. His eyes moved to the announcement screen and he stifled a groan when he read that the next train would arrive in seven minutes. 

“You’re awfully quiet today,” his Thai friend observed, propping himself on the seat beside him.

Smiling reassuringly, Yuuri glanced at the rest of their group, who were all too busy checking their phones for party updates with their other friends to notice that it would still _be_ a while before they would even get to the club.

“I’m fine,” Yuuri replied, “really. Don’t worry about me.”

“We’re going to have fun tonight,” Phichit grinned, “and you can have your pick at who to hook up with there. I heard there’s a lotta cute guys.”

“That’s always your agenda,” he answered, “and plus, we don’t know that that’s true.”

For the next few minutes, Yuuri nodded as Phichit continued to lecture him about his previous unsuccessful attempts at trying to get laid. He had been too shy, or too forward, or too _expectant_. It had only been a few months since Yuuri had moved back to Tokyo from overseas, wishing to continue university in his home country. Unfortunately, he had grown too accustomed to other methods of flirting with people, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try his best to get into someone else’s pants. He watched Phichit’s mouth continue to spew all kinds of advice, but none of it was sticking in his brain.

If he was completely honest with himself, he only wanted to keep getting laid because he felt like he had to prove something to himself. Perhaps, it was the notion that he could seduce anyone if he set his mind to it, or if he wanted a simpler answer, it was that he was bored. The _actual_ truth of why he always said yes to these parties despite what a mess he always turned into after downing a large amount of alcohol, was far more complicated than he liked to admit. He laughed at all the appropriate places when his friend spoke, but his heart felt as dry as his skin was in this weather.

“The train is now arriving. Please stand behind the yellow line.”

Yuuri was used to other Japanese people looking at him in awe, especially when they saw that most of his friends were foreign and spoke in English. With a sheepish expression, he moved to the end of the train car that they entered, sitting near the door. Without a doubt, his friends followed suit, talking amongst themselves about how fun this club was supposed to be.

“I hear there’s a bunch of university students,” one of them said, “and apparently they’re in our department!”

“We could get to know them,” a second voice reasoned.

“Why get to know them when you can just have fun? They’re not going to care,” the guy sitting next to Phichit replied, his tone indicating that he had some pretty bad intentions behind his somewhat innocent face.

“What about Yuuri, guys?” Phichit said good-humouredly, “he hasn’t gotten laid in a few months.”

“How are you not suffering right now?” the first guy, Leo, asked incredulously.

There weren’t many words to explain _why_ he wasn’t exactly upset at the fact that he wasn’t getting laid more often. He was considered attractive amongst the people that lived in Tokyo, and even more so to foreign people that were looking to engage in all kinds of fun when they were visiting the city as tourists. His standards were low, which meant that he would sleep with almost anyone, and yet, it was difficult for him to have the resolve to do it when sober. Yuuri was only known as the fun one when he drank shot after shot, until he could no longer remember that he was trying to destroy himself in the first place.

“Oh, leave him alone!” came the second voice, who was also an international Japanese student, “If he’s uncomfortable, then we should let him do what he wants!”

“Kenjiro,” Phichit sighed, “Yuuri _wants_ to get laid. He just doesn’t want to go after what he wants.”

“And why not?”

Yuuri glanced at the time on his phone and groaned inside his head, wishing that his friends would just _stop_.

“I’m picky with who I want to sleep with,” Yuuri finally replied, allowing a nervous smile to spread across his lips.

“Sounds like he’s making jabs at us.”

“Nah, he really is picky. Remember that one guy that was pretty hot and was apparently a good kisser, but Yuuri _still_ turned him down?”

“That was because he was a lot older.”

“Doesn’t mean he can’t have any fun.”

Laughing along with them, Yuuri couldn’t help but wonder why they were talking like he wasn’t there with them. This new reputation that he had attained made him seem completely different than who he actually was, but part of the reason he chose to come back home was for this exact reason. He could create a new version of himself, one that didn’t take any shit from anyone, one that could laugh at anything, but most importantly, one that could brush off the things that splintered his heart. 

“You guys been to this club?” Yuuri asked abruptly.

“Nah,” Kenjiro replied, “but I did research, and apparently it only has two floors.”

“There’s a VIP section,” Leo chimed in, “and a _huge_ dance floor.”

“What’re you worried about? It’ll be a blast!” Phichit grinned, throwing his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder.

The other friend, the one who Yuuri hadn’t really gotten to know, glanced at him with a somber expression. It was brief, but it was heavy and the dark-haired man knew that he wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings as he thought. Still, he smiled, and continued to make jokes as the train traversed the tracks until Roppongi Station. As though he was pulling out a mask, he began telling himself that he was now a different person. The Yuuri that walked off the train onto the platform was not going to be the same Yuuri as the one that walked into the club, getting his wrist stamped.

As he passed through the threshold of the entrance, his eyes immediately lit up as he heard the bass echo throughout the club, and when he fixed his gaze upon the absolutely _full_ dance floor, he felt as though he had found his niche. Every single person was either drinking, talking to some friends, or bumping and grinding against some stranger they hoped to never see again. Spotting a few familiar faces, Yuuri opted to go on the opposite side of the dance floor, closer to the bar.

He ordered one, then two, then three shots, and downed them in all in less than five minutes. Lately, whenever he went partying, he felt as though there wasn’t enough alcohol that would get him properly drunk. Without a doubt, he spent his money on his habit that was slowly, maybe even dangerously, becoming an addiction. Yuuri was beginning to realise that he couldn’t bring himself to be bubbly, to be friendly, without at least a few shots in his system.

Placing the shot glass on the counter, he took a deep breath and moved through the crowd towards the center, where his friends had gathered and were talking to some girls. The room was stuffy and made him feel just the tiniest bit claustrophobic, which made him wonder if he should go calm down in the restroom —

In no uncertain terms, he had felt someone squeeze his ass cheeks.

He didn’t bother looking around for the culprit, because people usually take advantage of others in situations where it was _impossible_ for them to get caught. Raising his head, he kept on walking, when Phichit raised an arm to wave him over. Yuuri flashed a bright smile when the guy next to Phichit — one he was certain he hadn’t met before — eyed him up and down.

“Hey,” Phichit shouted over the bass, “this is Naoto.”

Nodding to his left, Phichit raised his eyebrows at Yuuri, as though to say ‘go for it’. Surprisingly, the guy called Naoto wasn’t shy. In fact, after the brief introduction, he leaned forward and casually asked Yuuri if he wanted a dance. Although a part of him was hesitating, the dark-haired man smiled and nodded, to which the stranger responded to by grabbing his wrist and dragging him towards the middle of the dance floor.

Naoto was _handsy_.

At the very least, he wasn’t being any more disgusting than the person who had sheepishly squeezed Yuuri’s ass earlier. Every now and then, he would ask Yuuri about his life, what hobbies he had, and if he was fluent in English. Politely, Yuuri would answer each question in a manner that made it clear that he was keeping him at arms’ length. He didn’t need any of these people knowing him. He didn't need any of these people _pretending_ they wanted to know him.

As though it was a reflex, Yuuri’s eyes averted to the doorframe from which he came in. He had done it so many times in such a short amount of time, that Naoto turned around behind him to look, too.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

“Huh?” Yuuri blinked, as though he had been disturbed from a trance.

“You keep looking that way. Are you expecting someone to come?”

With one last look in that direction, Yuuri shook his head and moved his eyes to Naoto’s face. The guy had raised his eyebrows, showing some kind of concern that Yuuri couldn’t help but tell himself was fake.

“No,” he said finally, “I’m not.”

With those words, Yuuri pressed himself closer. Naoto’s wandering hands were now firmly on his hips, his expression now softer. His body was moving slower, trying to move away from grinding, and Yuuri felt his insides sink to his stomach. Obviously, he didn’t really _care_ about this guy who just wanted to dance with him. It was all a game. Although, there was something the way Naoto was looking at him that made him feel like he was on display, and like he should feel a little bit disheartened.

He was trying to _understand_ Yuuri.

The side of himself that he was trying so hard to hide was now exposed, and it seemed useless to try and cover up the remaining secrets he wanted to keep. Meeting Naoto’s eyes, he could read sympathy, sadness, and worst of all, a disgusting sliver of pity. Yuuri gave him a small smile but he kept his expression cold.  
****

“Let’s go get some drinks.”

Without another word, Yuuri walked towards the door frame, rest assured that Naoto was right on his tail. They passed by the stairs that led to the roof, where a few girls were standing, talking to their friends. Yuuri gave them a polite nod, not entirely sure if he knew them or not, but judging by the way they eyed him, they _might_ have known him.

“There’s a bar inside,” Naoto stated, his voice confused.

“Too crowded.”

Naoto didn’t utter another word as he followed Yuuri down the stairs. A few newcomers were heading upstairs, making the space around them seem even smaller and narrower than when Yuuri first arrived. He took a deep breath and tried to push through, when he made contact with a guy whose jaw was strong and whose shoulders were broad.The guy eyed Yuuri up and down, smirking when he met his eyes again. He was, not to Yuuri’s surprise, Japanese. However, there was a vibe from him that he recognized, one that practically could be akin to a big red sign that pointed to him in neon lights and read: ‘I grew up overseas’.

“Leaving when the party’s getting started?” the guy smirked.

“Just going to the bar downstairs. Way too crowded up there.”

“I’ll go with you,” he replied cheekily, “I’m Rei, by the way.”

“Yuuri,” he answered, his tone nonchalant, then he gestured behind him, “this guy’s Naoto.”

“My friend’s name is Shuuya,” Rei offered, giving a beaming smile, “nice to meet you guys!”

They all nodded at each other and engaged in small talk before Yuuri cleared his throat and moved to reach the bottom of the stairs. He heard idle chatter behind him as they made their way to the downstairs dance floor, in which there was a significantly lesser number of people. There was smoke in every corner of the room and it was pretty apparent that almost every person in the room was a smoker. Yuuri coughed awkwardly and kept his eyes on the bartender, who turned to look at them the moment they walked in.

“A Long Island, please,” Yuuri shouted over the music as soon as he reached the counter.

“I’ll have the same,” Rei retorted, moving to stand next to Yuuri.

The time of night was beginning to reach a point where the alcohol, instead of clouding his judgment, was causing him to question the choices he made for just that one night. Most likely, on Christmas Eve (technically, Christmas morning, since it was well past midnight at this point), people were at home, sleeping soundly. Without any of the empty feelings Yuuri felt in his chest, without the sting of alcohol running down their throats.

Without another word, Yuuri walked towards the door frame, rest assured that Naoto was right on his tail. They passed by the stairs that led to the roof, where a few girls were standing, talking to their friends. Yuuri gave them a polite nod, not entirely sure if he knew them or not, but judging by the way they eyed him, they _might_ have known him.

“There’s a bar inside,” Naoto stated, his voice confused.

“Too crowded.”

Naoto didn’t utter another word as he followed Yuuri down the stairs. A few newcomers were heading upstairs, making the space around them seem even smaller and narrower than when Yuuri first arrived. He took a deep breath and tried to push through, when he made contact with a guy whose jaw was strong and whose shoulders were broad.The guy eyed Yuuri up and down, smirking when he met his eyes again. He was, not to Yuuri’s surprise, Japanese. However, there was a vibe from him that he recognized, one that practically could be akin to a big red sign that pointed to him in neon lights and read: ‘I grew up overseas’.

“Leaving when the party’s getting started?” the guy smirked.

“Just going to the bar downstairs. Way too crowded up there.”

“I’ll go with you,” he replied cheekily, “I’m Rei, by the way.”

“Yuuri,” he answered, his tone nonchalant, then he gestured behind him, “this guy’s Naoto.”

“My friend’s name is Shuuya,” Rei offered, giving a beaming smile, “nice to meet you guys!”

They all nodded at each other and engaged in small talk before Yuuri cleared his throat and moved to reach the bottom of the stairs. He heard idle chatter behind him as they made their way to the downstairs dance floor, in which there was a significantly lesser number of people. There was smoke in every corner of the room and it was pretty apparent that almost every person in the room was a smoker. Yuuri coughed awkwardly and kept his eyes on the bartender, who turned to look at them the moment they walked in.

“A Long Island, please,” Yuuri shouted over the music as soon as he reached the counter.

“I’ll have the same,” Rei retorted, moving to stand next to Yuuri.

The time of night was beginning to reach a point where the alcohol, instead of clouding his judgment, was causing him to question the choices he made for just that one night. Most likely, on Christmas Eve (technically, Christmas morning, since it was well past midnight at this point), people were at home, sleeping soundly. Without any of the empty feelings Yuuri felt in his chest, without the sting of alcohol running down their throats.

* * *

 He woke up next to Shuuya.

Shuuya, whose arms were wrapped around him, whose breath smelled of cigarettes, and whose snoring was softly drumming near his ears. Yuuri pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted at the sunlight that was blinding him. Shifting in his loose embrace, he craned his neck to see Naoto and Rei passed out on the other side of the king-sized bed. Yuuri sighed.

Although he was having a hard time remembering what had happened the night before, he was certain that his clothes weren’t ripped off. Mostly because they were still on and weren’t crumpled. He let out a breath of relief.

“You’re up?” Shuuya mumbled then cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” Yuuri answered coolly, “I gotta catch the train.”

A series of groans came from Naoto as he stretched and sat up, his eyes half opened as he moved his gaze to look at Yuuri. The three of them chuckled nervously about the night before, filling in the gaps of memories that they each were missing. Yuuri pushed his hair back and checked his phone, passively reading the numerous missed calls and texts from his friends he left behind at the club.

 _Probably should’ve told them_ , he thought to himself.

“Hey, look who’s up.”

Yuuri lifted his head to see Rei rubbing his temples, grunting as he reached for a bottle of water on the bedside table, gulping it down so quickly that Yuuri could _hear_ it slosh around in his throat. His features were much harsher in broad daylight, and he seemed significantly less friendly. On some level, Yuuri began to feel some sort of deep-rooted fear as he watched the man move throughout the room. He walked into the bathroom and the three others were silent as they gave each other pointed looks, each filled with an uneasiness.

“We should get a move on,” Rei finally sad as he stepped out of the bathroom, his face wet.

“Do you remember anything that happened last night?” Naoto asked, chuckling nervously.

“Not really.”

“Not at all?”

“No. My head hurts. Let’s go.”

“Do you remember him?” Shuuya asked softly.

Yuuri was met with a cold, hard gaze that seemed to pierce through him and wrack his spine with something that felt all too similar to indifference. His expression begged the silent question ‘who are you and why are you here?’, which, if Yuuri was being completely honest, made him feel a little less than human.

“No,” Rei answered, “I don’t.”

“Take a guess.”

Rei pursed his lips as he regarded Yuuri, sighing before moving to pinch his nose.

“I don’t know, do I owe you money or something?”

“Wha —“

“Are you a whore? Did I forget to pay you?”

Shuuya and Naoto cleared their throats, too nervous to say anything. They didn’t defend Yuuri, they didn’t even _make_ an attempt to stick up for him. With as little resolve as he had left, he let a small smile to spread across his lips, as though the words didn’t hurt. He had been called many things before, but he was always able to brush them off.

Somehow, hearing the word ‘whore’ from someone who didn’t know anything about him, was more painful than hearing it from those that _did_ know him.

The hurt didn’t spread quickly enough. He slipped into his shoes and into his coat, pushing his phone into the pockets there and waiting for the other three. Without so much as a second glance, Rei walked off towards the lobby and Yuuri, with a heavy heart, followed after him to the concierge. He wasn’t asked for payment — he usually wasn’t, in situations like this — but now he _had_ to wonder if what he was doing with his life and his body _really_ classified him as a prostitute.

He frowned at the thought.

“Hey,” Naoto tapped him on the shoulder, “don’t worry about Rei.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“No,” he replied softly, “but still, pay no mind to him.”

“He didn’t call you a whore.”

His heart felt as though a large chunk was ripped out from his chest, leaving an empty, hollow, unfulfilled impression on his mind. Taking a few steps forward, he winced when the glass doors slid open and the December air whipped his face. Without so much as a glance in the direction that Rei had walked, Yuuri turned the opposite direction and walked towards the Tokyo Metro entrance just a few hundred meters away. The other two men behind him, who were whispering tiredly amongst themselves, would occasionally ask him if he was feeling alright.

Every time, he gave them a small smile, not bothering to say anything.

Fingers fumbling in his pocket for his train card, Yuuri waved a quick goodbye to the men who walked towards the Namboku Line, located in the opposite direction he was walking toward. Normally, when he was alone, he would immediately pull out his earphones and stick them in his ears. Evidently, he preferred the sound of his own music to the sounds of the city that was bustling around him, but even as he stepped onto the escalator leading up to the train platform, he couldn’t find it in his heart to reach into his pocket again. His eyes felt tired and his brain felt as though it couldn’t comprehend anything. Yuuri drew in a deep breath and kept his head low as he planted his sauntering feet behind the yellow line.

He knew he reeked.

He knew his under-eyes looked bruised.

Most importantly, he knew that his chest had never hurt this much.

Unsurprisingly, there weren’t that many people at this time of the morning. Yuuri glanced about him, vaguely noting the people around his age who were scrolling through their phones, and the older, more dignified ones reading their books attentively. With a sullen expression, he averted his eyes to the notice board, vaguely thinking that it was too early to be feeling so lonely.

“The train is now arriving. Please stand behind the yellow line.”

He feared permanence.

With anything that occurred within his life, he always trembled in his shoes at the idea of something that stuck with him forever. Every now and then, he would smile at couples who were so clearly in love, or he would frown and sympathise with the homeless who were camped out in Shinjuku with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Worriedly, he wondered if his fear of _permanence_ would cause him to end up turning into something he hated. Even as the train dashed before him, his heart became heavy.

 _Jumping_ meant effectively causing a whole different kind of permanence.

Propping himself onto the longer seats, Yuuri cleared his throat when the doors shut. The seats beside him were empty; no one was willing to sit next to him. The trip only took about an hour, but without anyone to talk to, and without the motivation to finally pull his phone out of his pocket, Yuuri fixed his eyes on his hands in his lap. Although the train was warm, the tips of his fingers felt so cold that it was almost painful. He was _tired_ , but more than anything, he felt that he was filthy, and that he didn’t know how to scrub it all off.

The corners of his lips twitched as he felt a lump form in his throat and he had never wished harder that he had stayed home instead of gone out. Admittedly, he was still a little new to the party scene, but the high that he got from downing drink after drink hardly wore off in this manner. The novelty of meeting new people, making out with them, then going home with them, was already starting to wear off. It was empty and it was too much effort for just a few hours of needless attention from people that didn’t matter.

Despite the many hours it had been since he was _at_ the party, he could still smell the cigarette smoke and the vodka off his shirt. Yuuri sniffed and cleared his throat, then leaned his head against the window behind him. It was only around nine in the morning, and on Christmas Day, the trains and the streets felt emptier than they normally were. He closed his eyes and gulped, swallowing the lump in his throat that threatened to break out through his mouth.

Naoto had stayed silent.

Shuuya had appeared sympathetic.

But Rei? _He_ was the one who really got to Yuuri, who made him question everything he was doing in order to make himself numb.

 _A prostitute_ , Yuuri thought to himself, _maybe that’s exactly what I am_.

Feeling a prickling sense of suspicion, he felt as though someone was staring at him. Carefully, he raised his head and opened his eyes slightly, to see an older woman sitting across from him. Her eyes moved up and down as she looked at him, her expression similar to something like pity and sympathy. Yuuri pursed his lips as he averted his eyes to his shoes, a looming sensation of shame cloaking him. He listened to the sound of the train running on the railways and willed it to move faster, to no avail. In the back of his mind, all he saw was his sadness. He wanted nothing more than to burst through the door of his apartment and crawl into bed, hiding away from everyone.

“The next station is: Nerima. Please exit on your left.”

Yuuri bit his lip and stood up, dragging his feet to the door. The older woman who had been staring at him was now focused on her own hands in her lap, her head bowed as though purposely avoiding any more eye contact with him. The train came to a halt and the doors slid open, and Yuuri didn’t hesitate to quickly push through the crowd towards the ticket gate that led to the Seibu Line. There were more people now standing on the platform, each and every one of them engrossed in whatever it was that they were doing.

“The train is now arriving. Please stand behind the yellow line.”

 _Just in time_ , Yuuri thought to himself in good humor.

There was always less people on any Seibu Line, especially during the mornings. Each Seibu branch, whether it was in Tokyo, Osaka, or Kyoto, led to a more suburban area of their respective cities. Nerima was where a lot of traditional families resided, along with older couples whose houses were paid for by their currently working children. Yuuri’s thoughts were occupied with the fact that in _all_ the people in his neighborhood, he was most probably one of the only ones who stayed out all night and came back the following morning after a party. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the doors shut, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

Any night that involved drinking usually made him feel sluggish the next morning. It was rare that he got a hangover; he was mostly just _tired_ from being awake and being drunk. Only a few of his close friends knew of his mental state, and even then, he kept certain secrets from them. He never expressed any desire to take his own life, and he figured that as long as he shut up about it, he would be safe, and he wouldn’t do anything that was potentially dangerous. Still, the alcohol and the meaningless sex was, with no doubt, catching up to him. Every time he looked in the mirror, he was paralysed with the fear that he no longer recognised himself.

Although his face had mostly stayed the same since he graduated high school, there was some kind of dullness in his eyes that scared him, much to his chagrin. His bad habits had gotten incredibly reckless that he had stopped taking any kind of medication for his health. If he got physically ill, he merely shut himself away in his apartment and slept until he felt well enough to go out again. If his mental health was taking a hit, he called a few friends and asked them to take him out to karaoke, only to come home to an empty apartment and an invisible box filled with his unfinished business. Yuuri was practically at war with himself, not knowing which part of himself to listen to, when he had too much too drink, or even when he was trying to see any good reason to get out of bed in the mornings. 

He reached into his pocket and read the time on his phone: 10:14am.

The man sighed.

“The next station is: Nerimatakanodai. Please exit on your right.”

Yuuri couldn’t remember the walk to the 7-11 right by his apartment. He knew his foot had worked on their own, had taken him into the store to buy a bento box and a coffee. When he pulled out his wallet, he felt his fingers go numb, like he wasn’t really awake and walking. He forked over the bank note to the cashier, who diligently gave him back his change and bowed, telling him to come again. He nodded idly, grabbing his plastic bag, when he heard the other cashier speak to him.

“Someone had a fun night in Roppongi, huh?”

Yuuri blinked, then smiled. “It was, yes.”

“I can see it on your face,” the older woman chuckled, “it’s so great to be young!”

Smiling, Yuuri thanked the staff again before walking out, his expression immediately falling when his feet stepped on the welcome mat. His eyes averted to his feet and he wished that there was someone to _drag_ him back to his apartment, back to his warm bed, and maybe even help him wash the scent of humiliation and depression off his cheeks.

His neighbours politely bowed their head when they saw him walking up to his door, pulling out his keys. They never said anything to each other, and most of the time, Yuuri had absolutely no problem with that fact. It was Tokyo, which meant that it was rare for someone to be kind to another person. Helpful, yes, but the city was never like Osaka or Kyoto, where people were born with kindness running through their veins.

But just for today, he wished they’d said something.

Leaving the door unlocked, Yuuri kicked off his shoes and sauntered over to his bed, readily made for him to slump into. He pulled out his phone from his coat pocket and threw it onto the bed, then threw his coat onto the floor. Phichit was probably worried sick, since the texts had continued to roll in. Yuuri sighed and picked up the phone, calling his friend’s number and prepared himself for yelling.

“ _What the_ fuck _, man!?_ ”

“Hey, Phichit.”

“ _Don’t you_ ‘hey Phichit’ _me. We were worried as fuck about you —_ “

Yuuri didn’t hear the rest.

He knew he was being yelled at, and he knew it was for good reason too. Unforgivably, he had left his friends at a club without telling them where he had disappeared off to. Throughout the whole night, they had been trying to reach him, and he had ignored them. He let his depression get the better of him, and if they had any idea that he was having such a hard time, it would have made matters worse. Phichit fell silent on the phone, disturbing Yuuri’s thoughts.

“Phichit?”

“ _Did you not hear me_?”

“What?”

“ _I said, what happened?_ ”

Staring at his coat on the floor, and his food that he knew he wouldn’t touch beside it on the floor, Yuuri leaned back until his head hit the pillow. He breathed quietly on the phone, but knew that Phichit could hear him. In his head, he ran through the whole night, wondering if he deserved to feel this way. He thought that, maybe, if people kept engaging in this type of culture, eventually, they would reach a dead end with no way to get back to where there were lights. The corners of his heart grew splinters and shattered, its jagged points scraping his insides as they fell to his stomach.

He felt a tear fall down his cheek.

“Phichit?” he said calmly.

“ _Yeah?_ ”

“I think I made a mistake.”

With that, Yuuri began to sob, the kind that wracked through your whole body until you couldn’t move until it all fell down your cheeks and onto your pillow. He didn’t say a word, and Phichit on the other line listened quietly, knowing that with things like these, there were no words he could say that would make it hurt less.

When the tears dried and the food became cold, Yuuri knew that this would be another day that he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror.


	2. Jiro (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a singer is a dangerous person because their voice will have you falling in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just checked when this was last updated and i SWEAR IM SORRY but i am getting around to updating everything i didn't update in this long so pls bear with me !!

**:SUMMER:**

 

 

 Yuuri hated cicadas.

He absolutely despised the way their legs, or their wings, or whatever the hell it was, would rub against each other and create that horrendous noise that hurt his ears every single summer, that which signified the sport of _sweating_. Even just leaving his apartment for a few minutes to take out the trash, or to get the mail, or even take a ten-minute walk to the Lawson or the 7-11 near the train station would result in him having to take a few showers a day, so he wouldn’t stink.

It was an entirely different (and worse) story if he went into Shinjuku, even at night.

Those parts of the city were rampant with the homeless — some who had fallen victim to drug abuse, some who were ostracized because of their mental health, and even some who willingly withdrew from society because of high expectations that were imposed upon them by their families and society. They never really bothered anyone, but they did just lay around on the dirty pavement under tunnels and slept their lives away. During the summer, the air was _especially_ pungent, with the smell of urine and alcohol filling everyone’s noses. Yuuri would try to breathe through his mouth, which evidently made it worse, so he had no choice but to just hold his breath until he was in a safe space to breathe.

Because of the heat and the awful odors, Yuuri could only find solace in temporary comforts. A mere sip of cold water felt like he’d found an oasis after having been lost in the desert for weeks, and air-conditioned buildings felt like jumping into the ocean, even if it was nighttime. It was just always _hot_.

“The current station is: Yoyogi. Please exit to your left.”

 _One more station_ , thought Yuuri, his eyes watching a swarm of people step off onto the Ooedo platform.

Six months had passed since the incident with Rei.

After Phichit spent an hour hustling over to Yuuri’s apartment, ounces of tears were shed and wails were muffled by pillows. Yuuri was a sensitive person — this was a fact that all his close friends knew. At the same time, he only really became mildly upset at things that would have destroyed other people’s self-esteem and sanity. When his friends worried, Yuuri hardly understood why. _This happens all the time_ , he would think to himself, but not dare say it out loud. He knew that his friends were overprotective of him.

For good reason, though. Always for good reason.

It had taken two months for Yuuri to feel just a little better about himself, but in retrospect, that time wasn’t much at all. He knew that with some things that happened in his life, he had to keep moving, because that was the only way for his misfortunes to not hurt. Although Rei was an experience that he wanted to forget, there was something about being accused of being a prostitute that made Yuuri stay grounded. It was messed up, and even unhealthy, but that was how his brain worked. That was how he dealt with painful things: he took it upon himself and blamed himself for not being smarter. He didn’t have a rough childhood, so he didn’t know exactly where this sense of not being good enough came from.

Obviously, he’d been through a lot.

Living in such a busy city was overwhelming sometimes, because there was this idea that you could do whatever you wanted, and no one would know who you were. You could run away from everything and everyone you needed to, for as long as you wanted. Perhaps, that was the problem for Yuuri. Everyday as he walked through tunnels, through the underground stations, through areas like Roppongi and Dogenzaka — which were the hubs for partying and drinking — he knew that he was fading away. With every neon sign he passed, he could feel himself becoming even more lost.

“…Shibuya. Please exit on your left.”

Yuuri took in a sharp breath through his mouth.

Knowing that, Yuuri still drank until he couldn’t feel anything. With people like him, it was difficult to find solace in the silence of his one-bedroom studio apartment, or in the hushed coffee shops where he went to do his work. Loneliness was always so _loud_ and to shut it up, he drank bottle after bottle, and kissed person after person, until he was too tired to tell himself that he was pathetic. He checked the time on his phone and chewed on his bottom lip. Phichit and Kenjiro had wanted to go check out a new local band that was supposedly on the rise. Their records were being played constantly in _Tsutaya_ and on the radio, as well as some ramen stalls.

Tonight was supposed to be their first official gig, and Yuuri’s love for music was always refreshed with new, talented voices.

“Yuuri!” Kenjiro called out, waving his arm in the air.

“Hey,” Yuuri grinned, “you’re early for once.”

“I’m always early.”

“That’s bull.”

“Okay,” the goofy-grinned guy chuckled, “I’m always early when I hear that alcohol might be present.”

“That’s more like it.”

“Where’s Phichit?”

“Almost here, I think,” Yuuri replied, “I think he got to the station before we did, so he’s probably—“

Yuuri let out a shriek of utter shock as his high school friend crashed into him, surprising him from behind. The guy grinned widely and Kenjiro laughed as Yuuri placed his hand on his chest, trying to catch his breath.

“What the _hell_ , Phichit!”

“You were wide open.”

“You _know_ I get spooked easily!” Yuuri says exasperatedly, his heartbeat still erratic.

“Is it really just the three of us tonight?” Kenjiro asked with eyebrows raised.

“Leo said he was spending tonight with his girlfriend,” Phichit replied.

“He could have just invited her,” Yuuri said exasperatedly, “unless it was date night. Otherwise, I don’t know why he keeps avoiding introducing us to her.”

“Maybe he just wants to be sure of his relationship with her before he does so,” Kenjiro mulled thoughtfully, “especially since he has a history of being kind of…”

“A huge flirt?”

“Yes.”

“Also a history of cheating.”

“He was a dumb teenager when he cheated,” Yuuri protested, “I doubt he’s _still_ like that.”

“Yeah,” Kenjiro affirmed, “maybe he’s changed.”

The three men gave each other uncomfortable looks, their eyes darting from each other’s faces to the pavement they stood on, knowing fully well that their words were empty. Yuuri gestured towards the direction of Dogenzaka and crossed the Shibuya Crossing with his two friends, laughing at a story that Phichit was telling about university that happened earlier to him that day. It was the final week of classes, which _basically_ meant that they didn’t have to show up, especially since their exams were over and done with. A lot of their other classmates had already left for the next four months, but those people were the ones who had a _ton_ of money or whose parents were filthy rich.

Yuuri didn’t mind.

At least it meant he didn’t have to constantly worry about bumping into people he knew but never really spoke to while he was hanging out in the city.

“What’s the name of this band, actually?” Kenjiro asked as he pulled out a bottle of water.

“I think they’re called Riot,” Phichit replied.

“Interesting choice of name,” Yuuri laughed.

“You gotta admit, they’re pretty good for Japanese indie music.”

“Since when do _you_ listen to Japanese indie?”

“I only started last year, but it’s really different from American indie.”

“That’s true,” Kenjiro affirmed, “Japanese indie feels more dreamy.”

“You mean like Galileo Galilei?” Yuuri asked, nodding.

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Those guys are good.”

“It kinda sucks that they’re not as well-known.”

Yuuri shrugged. “People know of their existence but that’s about it. The Japanese demographic is more into pop music,  and oddly enough, rap.”

“Why is that odd?” Phichit chuckled.

“Because rap is the last genre you’d think Japanese people would like,” Kenjiro offered, “especially because they hate noise.”

“You think rap is noisy?”

“I mean--”

“He just means it’s not very Japanese,” Yuuri remarked, “since Japanese music tends to be more subdued.”

Phichit nodded, and the three fell silent as they continued to walk through the alleys of Dogenzaka, looking for the bar they knew was hosting the band as entertainment for the night. They passed a few ramen shops and Yuuri realized that they’d actually _been_ down this particular alleyway of Dogenzaka before, when they were so drunk that they needed oily food to sober up before the trains started again. He chuckled to himself.

“What?” Kenjiro inquired.

“Remember Phichit’s birthday last year?”

“Yeah?”

“We were drinking here.”

“You mean the time Kenjiro threw up on Leo’s shoes?” Phichit chortled.

“Not on _purpose_.”

“That’s not the point.”

“If you were that drunk, you’d also —“

“Guys, shut up,” Yuuri waved his hand at them, “we’re here.”

The scene inside was more crowded and happening than Yuuri would have expected, much to his pleasant surprise. At every table, people were mingling and talking, and there was an electric buzz in the air as they all anticipated the appearance of the up-and-coming band. Phichit and Kenjiro were already making their way to the bar to order their drinks, and seeing that there was one more empty table near the stage platform, Yuuri quickly shuffled his feet to grab their seats before someone else noticed that the best seats weren’t taken yet.

Looking at the people surrounding him, he noticed that a lot of the customers and spectators were either around his age, or in their forties. A lot of them were couples who he supposed were just looking for something to do on a Friday night that _didn’t_ involve staying in and watching Netflix. He could hardly blame them, but there was a sense of normalcy even just by him glancing at them and seeing the occasionally laidback smiles on their faces. Without a question, he felt he was missing something. Maybe it was just the fact that he couldn’t comprehend contentedness, or he couldn’t comprehend much else apart from his own boredom with himself.

“Hey there,” a voice next to him said, “are you here alone?”

Yuuri turned his head towards the man that stood next to him, a shy smile tugging at the side of his lips. His brown hair was a kind of neat that seemed effortless and his brown eyes shone as Yuuri smiled back at him. He moved to rub the back of his neck, a tinge of a blush touching his cheeks.

“I’m Jiro.”

“Yuuri,” the other answered, his voice soft, “and no, I’m not alone.”

“Oh.” Jiro’s voice sounded dejected. “Then… your boyfriend?”

A chuckle came from Yuuri’s lips, making Jiro raise his eyebrows.

“My friends. They’re at the bar.”

Jiro laughed, clearly embarrassed, and the sound rang in Yuuri’s ears and he felt the corners of his own lips lift, feeling a little shy himself.

“You here for the band?” Yuuri asked.

The guy smirked, a teasing glint in his eye. “You could say that.”

“Us, too,” Yuuri beamed, “apparently they’re on the rise, and this is their first gig.”

“You a big fan of Riot?”

“Only heard a few of their recorded singles,” Yuuri replied enthusiastically, “but I like what they have so far! I can’t wait until they come on. I bet they’re _amazing_ live — even though this doesn’t really count as live.”

“Who knows,” Jiro laughed, “they might be even better than amazing.”

Surprised, Yuuri started to open his mouth when he heard Kenjiro call his name, holding an extra beer in his hand.

“Hope you like the show,” the man smiled one last time and winked before leaving Yuuri’s table, “and I hope it’s better than you expected.”

Jiro didn’t give much time for Yuuri to answer, but his thoughts were definitely still scattered even as Phichit and Kenjiro sat beside him, talking about a few cute girls at the bar who were friendly enough to give their LINE to them. Yuuri chuckled as they told him about their absolutely embarrassing pick-up lines.

“Not _everyone_ can flirt naturally,” Kenjiro said casually before taking a big swig of his drink.

“Are you referring to me?” Yuuri joked, “Because I can’t tell.”

“We saw that guy come over to talk to you,” Phichit laughed, “and you weren’t even _doing_ anything.”

“Seriously,” Kenjiro shook his head, “you’re like some kinda magnet.”

“Don’t tell me you’re coming onto me,” Yuuri said, his tone mocking.

“You never know.” Kenjiro smiled coyly.

“Don’t do that _ever_ again,” Phichit groaned, “I’m gonna have nightmares.”

The other two chuckled as they teased their friend, when the lights of the bar dimmed and everyone began to clap, encouraging the band to come onstage. From where Yuuri sat, he was facing the stage completely and he reveled in the fact that he had one of _the_ best seats in the bar. Three men and one woman came out from backstage, and Yuuri had always loved that the woman wasn’t stereotypically the main singer of Riot. She gave a bright smile and moved to sit at her drums, a sight that he felt suited her and her upbeat demeanor. The vocalist of the band had been crouching down to reach for his glass of water next to his mic and the spotlight settled onto his face as he stood up, giving a blinding smile to everyone and making Yuuri’s heart jump with surprise.

“Good evening, everyone!” the man exclaimed. “I’m Jiro.”

 _It would’ve been nice if he had told me he was the lead singer_ , Yuuri thought bitterly.

“These are my bandmates: Ryo on the guitar, Yuuki-chan on the drums, and Hide on the bass. Thank you so much for coming out tonight,” Jiro bowed, “and we hope you enjoy the show!”

The man turned his gaze to Yuuri and winked, making his friends beside him burst into chuckles that mortified him. The low lights in the bar had dimmed even further until the band was the only focus with the spotlight, and as Jiro stood before the mic with an expression he couldn’t describe, Yuuri found himself sitting perfectly still. The riff of the guitar filled his ears, the drums and the bass following closely behind, but his eyes were glued to the man who was tapping his foot, counting the beats.

The lights illuminated his face, carving the shadows from his cheekbones that made him painfully gorgeous. His brown eyes seemed to be fixated on Yuuri’s face, or perhaps it was deception that was getting to his head that made him feel that way. The dark-haired man shifted in his seat and tried hard to tear his eyes away, but it was hard to when Jiro gave him a soft smile, confirming that he had, in fact, been looking at him.

Then, he began to sing.

In his entire twenty years of living, there were only a few things that Yuuri felt were incredibly clichéd. Over the top declarations of love? Cliché. Chasing someone through the airport to tell them you loved them in the hopes that they wouldn’t get on that plane? _Double_ cliché. A passionate kiss in the pouring rain? God forbid. Hearing someone sing and immediately deciding that they were the one for you? Yuuri cringed at the thought.

Yet, he sat in his seat in utter awe as everyone around him cheered for Jiro, whose deep voice reached to the core of Yuuri’s heart and encaptured it. His eyes widened and he felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. The music that left Jiro’s seemingly soft lips were so bewitching that Yuuri felt an irresistible, fatal attraction towards him.

Like anyone who falls in love, he felt that in that moment, they were the only two people that really existed in that bar filled with applause.

* * *

Tokyo after midnight was quiet.

The salarymen who spent their dinner in izakayas would make it on the last train. The teenagers who went to karaoke were now at home, watching TV or studying for tests that they had the next day. The renowned hustle and bustle of Shibuya was now muted, a notion that -- no matter how many times he experienced it -- contained some kind of loneliness. His own friends would work to find a place to find shelter so they could eat and talk so that it wasn’t so quiet.

Despite how loud the days were, the nights were only for the lonely, the rebels, and the wicked.

Yuuri only really fit into one of those descriptions, but had a hard time admitting it.

“What about the British Pub near the station?”

“Why not Dogenzaka?”

“We were _just_ there,” Yuuri sighed, “plus, it’s way too quiet there for comfort.”

A feminine hum came from behind and Yuuri turned around, still somewhat in awe that after their performance, the band had come down to hang out with _them_. Yuuki grazed her cheekbone as she moved a lock of hair behind her ear, then smiled.

“We know this restaurant,” she beamed, “it’s usually really hard to get in without reservations.”

“How do we get in, then?” Phichit questioned, although it was more because he was being polite, rather than actually being eager.

“Yuuki’s brother owns it,” Hide replied, his expression emotionless.

“You’re not supposed to tell people that!”

“You guys friggin’ look exactly the same,” Ryo chimed in, “I think they’d figure it out.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Kenjiro replied, giving a bright smile of his own, “as long as it’s okay with everyone else!”

“Fine by me,” Phichit nodded, followed by affirmation by Ryo, Hide, and Jiro.

“What do you think, Yuuri?” Jiro turned to look at him, his expression soft. Yuuri was maybe as tall as his shoulders, and the height difference seemed to be greater from where he stood. He smiled at the man.

“I’m game.”

Yuuki’s brother had strategically placed his restaurant near the main road. Anyone who walked by -- foreigner or local -- would walk  by and could easily find them. These places were slightly more expensive, and Yuuri _had_ to wonder where her brother got so much money. Perhaps it was rude to ask, but Yuuki seemed to be generally open and accepting.

They walked for about ten minutes, exchanging stories that ultimately revealed what kind of people they were. Hide was the stoic, calm one, and happened to be dating Yuuki. Ryo was the more hot-headed member of the group, but it was clear to Yuuri that he cared about all of them the most. Jiro, whose smile was making him increasingly and endlessly attractive, was always kind to Yuuri and walked beside him. There was some kind of warning in his head, but merely _looking_ at Jiro’s face served as a beacon that chased away his fears.

Eventually, they came upon the Sanwa Aoyama Building near one of the crosswalks. It had only occurred to Yuuri then and there that the place might _not_ be open.

“Ah, Yuuki-san--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jiro replied, “since this restaurant opens late, it closes late.”

“That seems convenient,” Phichit chuckled, “you guys do this often?”

“Only when we have shows,” Hide answered.

The elevator doors opened to a restaurant that unsurprisingly, was filled with people. They appeared to be mostly foreigners, clinking their wine glasses or shouting Kampai! as they grazed their pints together before downing their beers. The atmosphere was as buzzing as Tokyo was during the day, with people laughing at anecdotes and jokes told by their friends that sat with them. _I could get used to this place_ , Yuuri thought to himself.

“Irasshai-- ah! Yuuki-chan!” a young woman with shoulder length hair and brown eyes exclaimed, “Takahiro-san is in the back!”

“Thanks, Azu-neechan!” Yuuki beamed, then gestured for us to follow her.

“Azusa?” Hide asked, as though the woman greeting them was a strange sight.

“They finally started dating, huh?” Jiro chuckled.

“I swear,” Yuuki laughed, “he was so oblivious to the fact that she liked him just as much as he liked her.”

Yuuri shot his friends a look, feeling a little bit left out. Of course, the entire band had been friends for a long time and therefore, knew details of each of their lives, like who their families were, and what was happening in their personal lives. Undoubtedly, there was a sense of camaraderie between all of them, and even though Hide was Yuuki’s boyfriend, Yuuri could tell that Ryo and Jiro cared for her deeply. In a way, he felt jealous. While he had his friends, there were times being with them made him feel lonely.

There was probably something wrong with him.

“Taka-niichan!” Yuuki exclaimed after they had sat down at a booth, “I saw Azu-neechan at the front.”

“Does she work here now?” Hide asked.

“No,” the tall, dark-haired man answered casually, “it’s just because the host I hired had a family emergency, and we didn’t have anyone else.”

“Must be nice to own a restaurant,” Yuuki teased.

Her older brother, who Yuuri learned was ten years older, looked exactly like Yuuki in that their facial features, as well as their amused demeanor, were almost exactly the same. They both had big, dark brown eyes and jet black hair that was slightly wavy. When he smiled, Yuuri could definitely tell that the two were related. However, he was more subdued than his sister, but was accepting of her bubbly behavior. As a gesture of kindness, he made a round of drinks free, just special for his sister.

“Who are these guys?” Takahiro asked, his tone polite, “I’ve never seen them before.”

“We met them tonight at our gig,” Yuuki answered, smiling, “they were in the front row!”

The older man smiled politely. “Your names?”

“I’m Phichit, and these are my friends Kenjiro and Yuuri.”

“Nice to meet you,” Takahiro nodded.

Before he could ask any more questions, one of the waiters was calling for him at another table. He let out a breath and signaled to his sister that he would be back later. The table as silent as everyone watched Takahiro walk away with a swagger that rendered all the men _speechless_. Yuuri peeked at the table that Takahiro had stopped at, finding himself silently approving at how confident he was, without being arrogant.

Jiro sighed. “How could he think that Azusa didn’t like him?”

“No self-confidence?” Ryo offered.

“Did you _see_ him walking over there?”

“Azusa is also beautiful,” Hide uttered, “maybe he thought she was out of his league.”

“Azu-neechan is _what_ , now?”

Everyone laughed as Hide smirked and playfully poked Yuuki in her sides.

“Okay,” Yuuki said, finally, “I would _appreciate_ it if everyone stopped checking my brother out.”

“Tell that to Jiro,” Hide said.

“ _Hey_!”

The entire group had started to include Yuuri and his friends in conversations, asking them if they had any stories or experiences that they would forever cherish. In other words, they wanted to know about the horrible choices that got them into trouble. Kenjiro laughed as Phichit told a story about the time he held a house party while his parents were out of town, only to be found out by a relative that visited his house to check up on him. Yuuri remembered that he had actually been unable to attend that party, because he was nursing a high fever that he had gotten the previous week due to not getting enough sleep.

“What about you, Yuuri?” Jiro asked thoughtfully, handing him a second pint of beer that he had ordered without Yuuri noticing.

“A while ago,” he started, “I was friends with this guy. He had this air about him that made people intimidated by him.”

“Were you?” Ryo asked.

“Not at all,” he shook his head, “but that was mostly because this guy was really nice to me.”

Yuuri took a sip of his beer, suddenly hyper aware that his friends were also staring at him, forgetting that they didn’t know this story.

“Anyway,” he continued, “one day, we were walking at the side of the road, and he told me to walk on the inside of the road, so that no one would bother me.”

“That’s weird,” Hide said.

“Yeah,” Yuuri nodded, “which was why I pointed out that the same thing would happen to him. To which, he said, ‘They won’t bother me, because I look like a _yakuza_.’”.

The people surrounding him fell silent, and each of their expressions were filled with a different version of fear or horror. Yuuri cleared his throat. “Then, after I asked him what he meant, he confessed that he was from a _yakuza_ family.”

“ _What_?” Yuuki gasped.

“You never told us this,” Phichit reacted, his tone alluding to an emotion that wordlessly uttered ‘why?’.

“I’m sure Yuuri had his reasons,” Kenjiro said, “right?”

“Right,” he nodded, “plus, I don’t talk to the guy anymore.”

“Thank god.”

“I don’t believe it ended there,” Jiro said calculatedly, “did it, Yuuri?”

There was a mysterious tinge to his voice that made Yuuri look at him. Really look at him. He found that Jiro’s eyes were filled with an emotion that he couldn’t read. He had moved closer to Yuuri, and though he did not understand why, he felt his heart thump in his chest. He sucked in a breath. “No… it didn’t.”

“What happened? _Tell us_!” Ryo said, his tone excited, “Did you get into a fight with the guy?”

“As if,” Yuuki rolled her eyes, “he’d be dead if he did that. So what’d you do?”

Yuuri hesitated, but with a look from Jiro, he found himself opening his mouth. “I… uh. I had sex with him.”

A stunned silence fell over their table as six different pairs of eyes were fixated on Yuuri’s face. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, praying that someone would say something. It was, perhaps, five minutes later, that Hide cleared his throat.

“I don’t know you’re still alive,” he said, “but _wow_.”

“Seriously, _wow_ ,” Ryo agreed.

“That was so stupid,” Phichit sighed, “you could’ve been killed.”

He listened to the murmurs of his old friends and his new acquaintances, talking about how none of their stories seemed to live up to his, and that they all needed to be a little more daring. On the other hand, Yuuri knew that his experience with this yakuza had been lucky, since he didn’t get caught up in anything that might have put him at risk. Just as he felt himself finally start to calm down, he felt Jiro touch his thigh. Surprised, he turned towards him.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice low.

“Where?”

“I wanna show you something.”

Without the rest of the group noticing, Jiro and Yuuri slipped away from the table, leaving them to continue sharing stories and order more drinks. Jiro, whose hands were rough and strong, grabbed Yuuri’s, and together, they entered the elevator and rode it up to the roof. His thumping heart was louder in his chest, now.

“You still talk to that yakuza guy?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I haven’t heard from him in a long time.”

“You reached out to him?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

Yuuri shrugged. “He was a friend of a friend. I didn’t see him that often.”

When the elevator door opened to the roof, Yuuri’s heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second, then settled back into his chest as he let out a breath. Before him were dozens of fairy lights that were hanging off poles, surrounding them with warm light. There was no one else in sight, and there were no tables or chairs for them to sit at. In the corner, Yuuri noticed a kind of ledge that looked as though it was meant to be a place for just two people to sit, and when Jiro took took his hand, he felt as though he was in denial.

“What is this?”

“Just somewhere I go whenever I need to clear my head.”

As they approached their seating place, Jiro placed a hand on Yuuri’s lower back, as though guiding him, as he sat down. The singer took his place beside him, then took a deep breath and sighed. He smiled softly before turning to look at Yuuri, his expression curious.

“About that story…”

“Still wondering about it?”

“Why’d you do it?”

Yuuri blinked, surprised. No one had bothered asking him _why_ before. “I was bored.”

“You knowingly had sex with a _yakuza_ , who may or may not have gotten you mixed up in shit, because you were _bored_?”

“I mean,” Yuuri laughed, “everyone has a different way of having fun.”

That seemed to cause a shift in Jiro’s kind eyes. They went from being accommodating to exhibiting a devilish desire. It was only for a split second before he turned away and looked at the city before him, but Yuuri felt a familiar sensation at the pit of his stomach. That _look_ in Jiro’s eyes wouldn’t have meant anything to anyone else. He smirked and cleared his throat.

“Takahiro lets you come up here?”

“Yeah,” Jiro nodded, “Yuuki-chan keeps telling him it’s dangerous, but I guess he gets it.”

“I can see why she’d be worried.”

“You do?”

“Phichit would throw a fit if I went to a roof. He’s probably shitting himself right now, if anyone told him we’re up here.”

Jiro laughed.

They stayed silent as they watched the Tokyo Tower from a distance, and Yuuri couldn’t help but think that its flashing lights were like a heartbeat. Drumming, as though trying to keep up with his. Finally, he heard Jiro sigh.

“So,” he started, “I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“You like… doing dangerous things?”

“I wouldn’t say I _like_ it,” Yuuri responded, “but… it gives me a rush to know that I’m doing something that could get me in trouble.”

Jiro fell silent, but his eyes were now fully looking at Yuuri, moving up and down before he grinned and moved an inch closer. He leaned his body towards Yuuri, who didn’t bother moving away. The two men stared at each other, eyes ablaze with lust and desire. Just as Yuuri leaned his face forward to kiss Jiro, the man stopped him by gripping his waist. Yuuri let out a sharp breath, then looked at Jiro with a confused expression.

Jiro leaned in and nibbled on Yuuri’s earlobe, before he chuckled as Yuuri shivered. He hummed.

“I,” he growled, “ _love_ dangerous things.”

Yuuri, at his core, was not a daring person. He had always wanted stability in his life, mostly because he just wanted the comfort that he deserved that happiness. After having engaging in risky, daring, and sometimes unsafe sex, he started to feel like _this_ was what it meant to be him. _This_ was the life that he was choosing, and while plenty of other people went through a similar affection-crazed phase, they never put themselves in any real danger.

Even though he had slept with a _yakuza_ , he had never been treated badly by him. The thought was depressing if not pathetic. He knew that he shrunk in embarrassment at the slightest bit of kindness, because he felt as though he didn’t _deserve_ it.

Still, with Jiro’s face between his legs and his fingers gripping his thighs, Yuuri couldn’t complain. His vision was hazy and his breath was hitched, and the only thing that he could think of, despite Jiro’s skilled tongue lapping at him, were a series of thoughts that had always been haunting him. Even as he arched his back in pleasure, and even as Jiro kissed his lips with fervor, Yuuri reminded himself of this fact:

_This is all he wants from me._


	3. Jiro (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> despair happens in the places where Yuuri least expects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy the tears lmao i lowkey cried writing this
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bn_PzoNVTpQ

**:AUTUMN:**

 

  
  
Working part-time at his family’s bath house had never been a big burden for Yuuri, especially because he was making extra money on commission. His parents had been having trouble trying to bring business back home in Hasetsu, but with their hard work and his surprisingly excellent marketing ideas, they were able to breathe life back into it, and even open up a separate one in Tokyo. Since his parents were comfortable having spent all their life in Hasetsu, it was his sister and her new husband that managed the one in the city. Because of higher population density, the Katsukis’ bath house in Tokyo saw _many_ more customers than the one in Hasetsu.

Yuuri had _only_ been working in the family business all his life, but when he was given the opportunity to go to one of the most prestigious universities in Tokyo, his parents urged him to go, and his sister threatened to kill him if he didn’t. With an anxious mind and trembling hands, Yuuri listened to them, and though he would never admit it, he was kind of glad that he did.

“Yuuri!” his older sister Mari called out. “It’s almost 11 o’clock! Go unlock the doors!”

Situated in Odaiba, they often had foreigners who wanted to try their hand at traditional _onsen_ or _sentō_ before going back home to talk about their adventures in Japan with their friends and family. Yuuri’s English was much better than his sister’s, due to the fact that he was a university student and had friends who were bilingual. Whenever he gave the foreign customers their well-deserved treatment as guests, their bath house received such high praise that even amongst the people who lived in the area, it became a commodity.

Weekends were, no doubt, their busiest days of the week. As soon as the clock hit 11 o’clock, it wasn’t long until people started appearing at the entrance, usually in groups, if not couples. Typically, they had a lot of hands on deck even on weekdays, but there was something humbling about returning to his roots that made Yuuri feel lucky that he was lucky to feel comfortable to be himself around his family, something that he never took for granted. He was close to his older sister, and even though she had a reputation for being a hard-ass, he knew that she would always have his back.

Two minutes after Yuuri had unlocked the entrance, a series of customers walked through the door and registered their names and paid their fees at the counter where his sister Mari stood, bright smiles splashed across her face. She bowed as she gave each customer their own locker key to put their things in, then gestured for one of the other employees to guide them inside the bath house. Yuuri, somewhat proud of his sister for running an entire bath house on her own in Tokyo, smiled to himself as he bowed, welcoming customers and directing them to her. A man who was as tall as a tree walked through the door and bowed to Yuuri before giving him a smile His slick black hair was in disarray and his deep-set eyes were as kind as his smile. “You must be Mari-chan’s little brother,” he said, his voice a deep baritone.

“Uh… welcome, sir!” Yuuri replied, flabbergasted. “If you would head that way to the registration counter--”

“Thanks, Yuuri!”

A little distracted by such a dazzling man, Yuuri watched as he swaggered over to his sister, who gave him an _extra big_ smile as though she had known him for a long time. In all the times that Yuuri had stopped by the bath house when he _wasn’t_ doing a part-time job here, he had never seen the man -- not even a glimpse of him. Clearly, Mari was hiding something, or perhaps she was hiding him in plain sight, especially with the way she was touching his arm now, clearly flirting. Yuuri wondered how on _earth_ she managed to score such a babe.

“Yuuri,” she called out to him when there were less customers entering, “come here! I want you to meet someone.”

“I’m sure I have,” Yuuri replied sheepishly.

The man turned to look at him, still smiling. “I won’t bite.”

Hesitantly, Yuuri walked over, feeling his shyness take over. He politely nodded at the man standing before him and listened to his sister chuckle. “I want you to meet someone,” she said.

“I think he knows that.”

“Would you--”

“Hi,” the man said, his tone cheerful, “I’m Rei, your sister’s fiancé.”

Yuuri blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I wanted to tell you,” his sister began, “but--”

“You didn’t even tell me you had a boyfriend.”

“Like I said,” she explained, “you’ve been dealing with classes and all, I just wanted to wait for a good time!”

Blocking out the fact that his future brother-in-law had the exact same name of the person who made him feel like less than human, he smiled and congratulated them, and easily settled into his own as his sister began running her mouth about how the two met. As it turned out, there really _was_ a man that would love Mari and not change a single thing about her. Yuuri was glad. She deserved a man that didn’t feel emasculated by how hard-working she was.

The two lovebirds continued talking before older Rei finally was given a key to a locker by his sister, and he waved a quick ‘see you later’ to Yuuri before being escorted by one of their other employees. Mari gave Yuuri a look. “So, what do you think?” she chimed.

“Seems nice,” Yuuri replied honestly, “and not like an ass hat.”

She laughed. “I’m so glad you like him! Now I can tell Mom and Dad!”

“Why didn’t you tell them first?”

“They’re okay with whatever I do with my life,” she explained as she flipped the page of the registration book, “so it’s you I’m worried about.”

“Why would you be worried?”

“Rei would be joining the family business,” Mari said slowly, “and considering the fact that you’ve always hated my boyfriends…”

“Mari,” Yuuri laughed, “you’re _marrying_ him. If I really didn’t want him around, you’d _know_.”

The two siblings laughed together and leaving her post, Mari walked over to Yuuri, giving him one of her signature lung-crushing hugs that left him coughing. Admittedly, Yuuri had started zoning out when his sister -- whom, for the better part of his life, didn’t care about planning events -- talk about what kind of wedding she wanted. He nodded his head in places where he felt it was appropriate and laughed when she laughed. He was happy for her, really, since she was one of the people in his life that he loved most. Though, he felt the corners of his lips twitch when she looked at him sympathetically and told him, “I know you’ll find someone, too.”

* * *

“I’m kind of mad that she waited that long to tell me she was freaking _engaged_ to the guy!” Yuuri exasperated as he handed Jiro the chopped carrots. “I mean, _really_. I’m her brother!”

“Like she said,” the brown-haired man deadpanned, “maybe she was just waiting for the right time.”

“It’s not like it’s bad news.”

“Some people might think it is,” he said as he poured the carrots into the pot, “I can think of at least five people that I know who would take it as bad news.”

“People you know are weird.”

“I guess so,” he shrugged, “but that’s great for your sister.”

In the last four months since they first met, Yuuri had asked himself every single night that he slept next to this man, why he felt so drawn to him. He was charming, yes, and was incredibly romantic, but he had moments of coldness that threw Yuuri for a loop and made him turn tables and spiral into anxiety until he was convinced that _something_ was wrong, or that he _did_ something wrong. At the end of the day, Jiro would kiss his cheek or lips and made Yuuri forget his fears with each thrust of his hips. It was unnerving, and there was an underlying emotion that kept warning the guy that something was coming.

It never came, though.

Or maybe, he chose to be blind to all the signs.

“Do you wanna go on a date this weekend?” Yuuri asked innocently as he poured them each a glass of wine. “We haven’t gone on our first date since we met.”

“Our dates are domestic,” Jiro said simply, “so we don’t really need to do that.”

“Don’t you get tired of cooking for us every night?” Yuuri said quietly, “I want to see the city _with_ you.”

Jiro shot him a look that made Yuuri’s spine feel cold with the idea that he may have said something wrong again. “Are _you_ tired of me cooking every night?”

“No, of course not,” he interjected, “it just seems like you’re…”

The cocked eyebrow that Jiro was giving him caused him to lose his nerve to say that he felt like he was a consistent booty call. He sighed. “Never mind.”

“I’m just not ready for that,” the man said softly, “because it was really hard on me in my last relationship, and I don’t wanna bring that baggage into your life.”

“Everyone has baggage, Jiro,” Yuuri whispered, “it’s just a matter of who you trust to help you with it, and it seems like you don’t trust me.”

“Yeah, but there’s a lot of other things going on in my life and I just want to be one hundred percent _there_ before we start seeing each other officially.” He paused, mulling his words. “I hope that that’s okay.”

“Sure,” Yuuri said plainly, taking a sip from his wineglass, “whatever you want. So since you need time to figure things out, I’ll just head on home and call Phichit for dinner--”

“Don’t be like that,” Jiro exasperated, “why is it so hard for you to understand me?”

“ _You’re_ the one who says you need time,” Yuuri shouted, “but _you’re_ the one who fucks me almost every single night! You don’t make any sense!”

“That’s not fair.”

“ _Why not_?”

“I sleep with you to show you _affection_ \--”

“And you can’t do that through more conventional means, like _taking me out on a fucking date_?!”

The small space of Jiro’s kitchen was silent except for the sound of the stove boiling the stew he had been cooking. Both pairs of eyes glared at each other, both filled with a burning desire to be _right_. Jiro had clenched his jaw as though he was holding back a physical urge to hit something, while Yuuri clenched his fists in an attempt to keep his eyes from welling with tears. Jiro would never hit him, but it seemed that every time Yuuri brought up the topic of their relationship, he was growing more and more annoyed. He swallowed his pride and cleared his throat, letting his hands relax at his side. “I’m sorry,” he uttered, “I didn’t mean it.”

Jiro’s face softened but no words left his lips as he turned around and quickly turned off the stove and poured stew into the two bowls that he had laid out on the counter. It was painfully silent as he placed the cutlery on his dining table before he whirled around to walk over to Yuuri and held either sides of his face, planting a hard kiss on his mouth. Instantly, Yuuri’s stomach fluttered and maybe it was because he was so starved for the touch of someone who cared about him, but Jiro’s hands on him settled his heart in his chest.

“We’ll talk about it, okay?” Jiro said quietly as he pulled away from Yuuri. “I promise.”

Sitting across from the man who he felt was the one to change him into a better person, he smiled as he took bite after bite. There was a sense of home that Yuuri could feel in the air, a place that he could always return to. Jiro often made him laugh with stupid jokes, with anecdotes that left his stomach in stitches. For a lot of people, finding someone who had the ability to make them laugh was an incredibly difficult feat, and once someone found it, they were thought to be one of the luckiest people in the world. Certainly, that thought crossed Yuuri’s mind more than just a few times.

The brush of Jiro’s hand against his thigh was what made Yuuri almost spill his drink into his lap. Looking to meet his eyes, he felt a jolt that went down his spine and settled in between his legs. Jiro’s hands were skilled as they rubbed at where he was most sensitive, watching Yuuri’s face closely for any kind of reaction. _This is how it always was_ , Yuuri thought to himself as he threw his head slightly back, moaning softly.

It was difficult to stay mad at Jiro, who now stood up and took Yuuri’s hand, peppering his neck with kisses as they headed for the direction of the bedroom. Yuuri’s back eventually hit a wall and the two of them laughed and Jiro grinded their hips together slowly, earning a sharp gasp from the black-haired man. Hands gripping, tugging, rubbing -- all eliciting grunts, moans, and sighs from both their lips as they finally fell into bed, quickly rutting out of their clothes. Skin to skin, Yuuri felt his cheeks flush as Jiro gripped his wrists and pushed them over his head, moving to kiss the hollow behind his ears, making him shiver.

 _This is how it always was_.

Jiro’s soft lips kissed everywhere before his fingers reached between Yuuri’s legs, making him reel and kiss the man that laid above him on the mouth. His heart thumped as his legs were pushed upwards, leaving Jiro to stare at the sight with lustful eyes before smiling sweetly, moving to plant a soft kiss on Yuuri’s forehead. Their eyes locked and Jiro reached for his bedside table, pulling out a condom and lube before moving lower to start his work. Even when they fought, even when it looked like they would not last, they always pulled through. Yuuri smiled at the thought.

 _This is how it always is_.

* * *

The phone hadn’t rang, vibrated, beeped -- whatever you wanted to call it -- in two weeks.

For every day that he worked incessantly to distract himself from his troubles, Yuuri was beginning to grow more visibly agitated. Mari had noticed a change in the way his smile twitched when he greeted customers; Phichit was painfully aware of how roughly he threw food into his basket at his local Lawson, and Kenjiro was becoming quickly worried at how many shots Yuuri was able to down, every single time they all went out. It was second nature for Yuuri to smile and brush off their worries, but he was finding it harder to sleep at night.

Every time his phone made a noise, he all but jumped to see Jiro’s name on his screen, but it never was there. He knew it was unhealthy and he couldn’t deny feeling like some wife during the war, always waiting for her lover to come home. Despising the idea, Yuuri grunted one day while he was over at Phichit’s apartment, a sound that rumbled low in the back of his throat, loud enough for Kenjiro, Phichit, and even Leo, to look over worriedly.

“You okay, man?” Leo spoke first. “Need another beer?”

“He shouldn’t,” Phichit whispered, “he needs to cut back.”

“Beer won’t help me,” Yuuri answered, ignoring Phichit, “I’m just seriously… frustrated.”

“Was Jiro acting weird last time you guys were together?” Kenjiro asked, biting into one of the hamburgers he had bought on the way over.

“No,” he sighed, “I mean, we almost got into a fight, but he was fine after that. For _days_ after that, even.”

“Maybe he’s just busy?” Phichit offered.

Leo laughed. “I doubt it. The guy sounds like a prick. If he really wanted you around, he would’ve been calling for the last two weeks.”

“ _Leo_ ,” Phichit warned, “don’t be a dick.”

“No,” Yuuri breathed, “he’s right. Maybe I’ve been going crazy for no fucking reason at all.”

“Why don’t you call him?” Kenjiro asked.

“Because I don’t want to seem clingy or needy… he hates that.”

The small living room where they all sat in front of the TV fell silent at Yuuri’s words, an atmosphere of uneasiness setting amongst his friends. Phichit, who always had a piece of advice to offer, suddenly could not muster any words of solace. Leo, who was known as the blunt one, sat back and chewed on his nails. Kenjiro held the TV remote in his hand, staring blankly at the screen before him, his eyes glazed over. Yuuri let out a sharp breath. “You guys don’t have to hold back.”

“We’re not.” Leo answered. “Just… I really think you need to look at this objectively.”

“That coming from you, the _womanizer_?” Phichit scoffed.

“Yes,” he nodded slowly, “which is why I really need you to listen to me, Yuuri.”

Despite the common belief that he was too soft-hearted for reality checks, Yuuri was actually one of the most level-headed people that his friends and family knew. There was a lot that he was able to take, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a limit. He listened calmly as Leo revealed to him the inner workings of an unfaithful lover, of someone who didn’t _really_ care about you, but he was finding it difficult to believe that Jiro would do that to him. Perhaps, he was blind, or perhaps, he was willingly being stupid in the hopes that he would find happiness if he suffered enough. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know, Leo.”

“Just promise me, Yuuri,” Leo said softly -- incredibly uncharacteristic of him, “because as your friend, I can’t watch you like this. You need to be able to sleep at night.”

Phichit and Kenjiro did not meet Yuuri’s eyes, but Leo did not waver. Yuuri nodded and cleared his throat, reaching for his phone in his pocket and dialing the number only to find that Jiro answered only on the second ring, beckoning him to come over in the sweet and seductive voice that he only showed to Yuuri when they were alone. Glancing over at his friends uncertainly, Yuuri shakily told his lover that he would be there soon before hanging up and staring at his friends, now in disbelief.

“So things are fine?” Phichit asked.

“It seems so!” Kenjiro exclaimed.

“No,” Yuuri whispered, “something is wrong. I’m going.”

“Call us if you need us,” Leo called out as Yuuri raced out, the door slamming behind him.

In a way, Yuuri was lucky that the train to Jiro’s place only took about ten minutes from Phichit’s. The entire time he listened to the wheels of the train grating against the metal, his heart was thumping and he started to become anxious at the prospect that something was wrong. Jiro hadn’t called in two weeks, and the one time that Yuuri called, he answered and asked him to come over as though it were nothing. There was a dull ache in Yuuri’s chest that was spreading everywhere in his body. Trying to give himself some semblance of positivity, he told himself that he was being paranoid, that he needed to calm down, that _maybe_ , Phichit was right, and that Jiro really had been incredibly busy.

 _...because as your friend, I can’t watch you like this_.

Leo’s words rang loudly in Yuuri’s head as he stepped off the train and walked towards the south exit of the station. The walk towards Jiro’s apartment felt longer than usual, and it felt as though his legs were growing heavy as though they were filled with lead or cement. Yuuri could swear that his heart was going to burst out of his chest even as he knocked on the door, gulping as he anticipated for Jiro to open the door. Would he welcome him with open arms, with a kiss to the cheek, to the lips? Would he pull Yuuri into his arms and apologize for disappearing for two weeks, would he have a real reason as to why he had left? Yuuri didn’t know, but there was one thing he _did_ know:

Jiro had answered the door, but did not look as though he was happy or relieved to see Yuuri.

 _Ah_ , Yuuri thought, _something is wrong_.

Jiro didn’t touch him. Merely gesturing for Yuuri to come inside, he didn’t even offer him anything to drink or make an attempt to be kind. Yuuri sat down in the all-too-familiar living room, across from Jiro, whose eyes were not meeting Yuuri’s. They were silent for what felt like the longest, excruciating minutes of Yuuri’s life so far, but Yuuri was not the one who asked to come here. He watched Jiro’s face, his hands, his shoulders -- everything about him, as though committing him to memory. That was all he could manage to do in situations like these. Jiro cleared his throat, finally.

“Yuuri.” his voice was low, a different kind of emotion tinged with it. “I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Yuuri had no time for games. He was _not_ going to hesitate. “Did something happen?”

“Yes.”

Yuuri blinked. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything for two weeks because I was trying to figure things out, and I figured the best way to tell you was to just… tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

It was only then that Jiro lifted his face to look at Yuuri, and although this was the person he had fallen asleep next to for months, even though this was the person who undressed him and kissed the most sensitive parts of his skin, the person who planted sweet kisses to his forehead, he felt as though he was staring at a stranger. The laughter lines on his face were deep-set, the eye bags under his eyes had gotten much better, but the most unfamiliar feature that Yuuri stared at now were Jiro’s eyes -- they were cold. Much, much colder than Nerima in January.

“I, uh. I’m back with my ex-girlfriend.”

When did it suddenly get so hard to breathe? “Your… what?”

“My ex-girlfriend. We were broken up for two years and we just recently… got back together.”

“Did you…” Yuuri whispered.

“No, I didn’t know she wanted--”

“...love her while you were with me?”

The silence that ensued made Yuuri’s limbs feel as though they were going to fall off. He could feel his fingers trembling but he could not raise his hands to push his hair back away from his eyes. Jiro didn’t open his mouth to answer the question, but averted his eyes to his hands that rested in his lap. “I can’t answer that.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” Yuuri said shakily. “You knew you loved her, every single night I slept here. Every time you kissed me, every time you... “ he felt his heart wail, but no tears were coming. “...you pictured her face, didn’t you?”

Jiro hesitated, then pinched the bridge of his nose -- a habit that Yuuri had picked up from him. “I didn’t know how to stop, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t like you. I never lied about that!”

“You still lied, “Yuuri deadpanned, “you just lied about things more important than how you felt about me.”

“Yuuri,” Jiro sighed, “when you fall in love with someone, you’ll understand why I did it.”

The small living room seemed to get even smaller with his words. Yuuri let out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe you.”

“If you want,” Jiro said slowly, gaging his reaction, “we can do it one more time. As a last goodbye.”

“ _What?_ ”

“But it would be the last time.”

Yuuri didn’t know what expression he made as he stood up with buckling knees and weak hands, leaving the apartment he would never set foot in again. He didn’t know where his heart fell, but he could not find it as he rummaged for his phone in his pocket, fighting with himself over whether or not he should call someone -- _anyone_. The tears did not fall down his cheeks as he walked towards the station again, but he was finding that his arms and legs were heavier than they were before, Jiro’s words now echoing in his head as loudly as church bells. Everything was a blur: strangers’ faces, the _kanji_ on the station signs, the many messages that he could feel his phone getting.

He couldn’t see anything.

Did he say another word to Jiro? He couldn’t remember.

All he could see in his mind’s eye was the day he met Jiro, the sweet smiles and kisses that he was given. All the time that he had invested -- a time that he told himself over and over again, was short -- was wasted on a man who was a cheater, the type of person who used other people for his own gain. Where did tears go when the eyes were too tired to let them fall? Where did the sobs go when they were always swallowed and stomached? Where did the pain lay to rest when it seemed to spread everywhere? Yuuri didn’t know, but as he turned off his phone and rode the train back home, he wished to the heavens that he did. If _this_ was any semblance of what being cheated on felt like, he never wanted to feel it again.

 _I wish I hadn’t been so blind_ , he thought to himself as he walked through his door. Slipping into bed, he pulled the covers over his head, promising his heart that it would hurt less the next day. What puzzled Yuuri for the longest time after that -- despite laughing as much as he could, kissing as many men as he could, seeing his friends and family as often as he could -- was this:

It _never_ stopped hurting.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos / comments heavily appreciated!


End file.
